


Rather Go To Pulse

by softly_speaking_valkyrie



Series: Femslash February 2019 [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Angst, Caring, Couple, Cute, Day 3, F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, Femslash February 2019, Fighting, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, Lesbians, Mild Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Sparring, Strife - Freeform, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 19:03:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17648207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softly_speaking_valkyrie/pseuds/softly_speaking_valkyrie
Summary: Femslash February 2019 Day 3! Recently turned into l'cie by a Pulse Falcie, Fang and Vanille struggle to comprehend and figure out their focuses as they travel all around Pulse. But time is already running out. Fang knows that as soon as the eye begins to open on Vanille's brand, she'll begin to turn into a Cieth, a horror that will no longer be the girl she loves. Fang has to train her lover, so they can both withstand the struggles above, on Cocoon. But time is running out, and they're both scared that they'll never be able to figure out their focuses...





	Rather Go To Pulse

Fang parried her lover’s foot coming right for her face, broke off and twirled into a low kick of her own to sweep the feet out from under her partner.

Vanille grunted heftily and leapt over Fang’s sweeping kick, doubling up by spinning in the air and somersaulting on the mat away from her beloved. With the palm of her hand, the pink-haired l’cie pushed herself back to a standing and fighting position before turning around to see Fang coming for her again with a determined and fiery look in her oceanic blue eyes. Sapphire burned within them and scared Vanille to no end. She leapt again, hopping back and letting her partner strike nothing but the thin yet effective mat. Vanille struck at Fang’s chest with her strengthened palm and continued as her partner flew back by leaping into a bicycle kick. Fang guarded herself with blocking hands and grabbed Vanille’s foot once she stabilised herself.

Spinning her wrists, Fang twisted at her lover’s foot, spinning her around until Vannile fell on her back onto the mat. Clenching her fist she was ready with gritted teeth, her brow wet with sweat and her hair loose and fraying at her forehead. Fang stomped on her wrist and towered over her, an unamused look on her face and her lips pursed almost. 

Her deep and sapphire eyes were so striking, aflame with passion for the fight and for Vanille as well. 

“That was good, hon. But not good enough,” Fang teased, now smiling as she removed her foot from her lover’s hand. Reaching for Vanille’s soft and petite frame, she lifted the pink-haired beauty to her feet and Vanille landed with a bubbly leap. Despite the fire and the passion of the sparring, Vanille could never lose her usually giddy and bubbly self. She was like soda. Fang smiled as she saw the radiant complexion and eager grin on her lover. “You’re getting better, but there’s still a ways to go, Vanille,” she reminded her a little sternly. 

Vanille pouted instinctively. “Only at hand-to-hand, Fang. But when am I gonna face Sanctum forces at hand-to-hand?” Asked the pink-haired and adorable Pulse l’cie. 

Fang graced her cheek with her palm, stepping closer to her and brushing the frayed hair away from her face, grooming her beautifully. 

“We don’t know what we’re going to face now we’re l’cie. You need to be ready, Vanille. The world is very dangerous,” Fang reminded her yet again, looming over her, a full head taller than her. Vanille had to look up, still smiling despite the sombre tone of the conversation. 

The glowing green of the walls bathed Fang’s butch look and physique in a mellow yet slightly sinister light. Vanille never liked how she looked in the green, it always clashed with her pink beach look; she’d much rather the open air, the sunlight, natural light that would make her look like a picturesque doll-like femme fatale. She was innocent and younger-looking than her years, but Vanille could still throw down like the best of the l’cie - meeker l’cie had been made by the Falcie. Thinking about it, Vanille pouted again, a little more sombre than before and looked away from Fang this time, to the floor in a small bout of self-loathing. Not knowing either of their focuses was becoming frustrating and troublesome. Fang didn’t know hers, and neither of them knew Vanille’s.

“Can I check it again?” Fang asked, breaking the silence and looking saddened to her partner, referring to her brand, the real-time tracker on the timespan she had before turning into a Cieth; a horrible monstrosity that Fang was not about to let her beloved turn into. Vanille pouted again and turned her body. “Vanille, please. Let me check it,” she asked again.

Vanille folded her arms in a childish and animated huff. “We know I’ve got four arrows, checking it again isn’t gonna make a difference Fang. I still don’t have the eye opening. It’s going to be okay,” the pink-haired fighter tried to assure her girlfriend. Fang looked bereft when she turned back to see the taller l’cie. 

Feeling a pang of guilt when she saw the glassy look in Fang’s piercing eyes. Her blue robes made her look like a goddess even in the green light and Vanille made a cry before lurching to her, to hold her. The taller woman felt a heaving push as Vanille’s body collided with her own and her arms wrapped around her instantly. This was tragically frustrating and Fang was hating herself inside - she had no idea what Vanille’s focus was and if there was no way to find out, to find out what the Falcie wanted her to do, she was doomed to turn into the terrible horror that was a Cieth. 

Again Vanille made a crying noise as she buried her face among Fang’s blue robes. As frustrating and scary as this was for the taller, dark-haired and skinned woman, this must have been terrifying for the smaller girl. Fang held her in her arms and brought her face back to look at her eyes, her beautiful green eyes. They were glowing in the surrounding dark green light. 

“I am not going to let you become one of those things, Vanille,” Fang promised her, her own eyes growing glassy as she saw Vanille starting to sniffle and cry at her. 

“How are we going to figure out what our focuses are, Fang? I can’t remember anything!” She cursed, stomping her feet on the floor like a child. She was crying now, her body writhing a little as she ripped the pelt shawl around her waist to show off her brand. 

Fang looked at the four forks escaping the middle of the black rectangle. Vanille had more than she did. The brand on her own arm that tracked their progress to failure had only two arrows forking out. The middle was a trace of red on both of them and Fang knew that once the lids of the middle eye began to open, it would not be long before they were to suffer worse than death. Vanille would not have that happen to her, Fang would rather to go Sanctum than let her down. 

Cupping the smaller girl’s face in her strong and feminine hands, Fang gazed into her lover’s crying eyes, beautiful as ever, crying herself. “I’m not going to let you down, my love. We’re going to figure this out, Vanille, even if we have to leave Pulse and go to Sanctum to find out what our focuses are. I promise you,” she swore, an oath with her hand on her heart as she confessed. 

All before leaning in and kissing Vanille passionately, terrified inside but so determined to protect the woman she loved, the woman she would do absolutely anything for. Vanille was not going to become a Cieth. 

When they broke, Vanille and Fang each wiped their eyes. Fang held her lover’s wrists and held them up until the pink-haired girl was in a fighting stance. Fang walked back and tightened her belt around her waist so her robes wouldn’t flow off of her well-toned body. With her hands, she took a martial stance and readied another round of sparring. Vanille had to learn how to fight hand-to-hand and not just with a staff or a cat-o-ninetails. She needed to learn all the techniques that Fang could teach her. Psycomm and Sanctum were going to be hunting them all over the world above and Fang knew she might not be there at all times to protect the woman she loved. 

“Again, Vanille. Again. Put me on my ass, my love.”


End file.
